


sixty years on (are you still listening to that sad song)

by FeoplePeel



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Character Study, Comfort/Angst, Death from Old Age, Extended Families, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Returning Home, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeoplePeel/pseuds/FeoplePeel
Summary: Beach City hasn’t changed much in sixty years, but Steven has.





	sixty years on (are you still listening to that sad song)

**Author's Note:**

> Been sitting on this since I watched Lars of the Stars. I wanted to write a story about Lars being one of Steven's (many, many) protectors and the shared feeling of feeling removed from a home you knew. It turned into, well, that but mostly a character exploration of Lars' extended family through Sadie and the Crystal Gems. Enjoy the sad!

Lars is on the cusp of Espion when a letter soars through his bangs and floats to rest on his knees. He tears into it, not even bothering to see who it’s from. No one’s written to him in…

Well, it’s been a while.

He jams a finger on the comms link and a small screen appears by his hand. Peridot is distracted, juggling a crate in one arm and maneuvering steel with the other. He can hear Lapis shouting instructions somewhere behind the smaller gem. She already sounds like she’s had a rough day; Lars isn’t looking forward to this.

“Hey, Peridot,”

“Lars!” Peridot nearly drops both items in her haste to answer, but manages to land them safely to the side. “Lapis, it’s Lars!”

Lapis glides down, the camera attached to Peridot’s person focusing on her. She’s silent, never one for idle chit chat, but obviously curious.

“Lapis, I can’t make the cargo run to Aucturn,” he starts in easy, pressing buttons he doesn’t have to, attention anywhere but the screen. “Have to reroute.”

Lapis looks like she’s going to strangle him. “Lars, communication out here is _shoddy_ , we need this delivery.” Lars swallows at Peridot’s softer, questioning, _Reroute?_

“I’ll send word to the Rutile Twins and Fluorite to make the drop after they’re done picking up the gems on Evervescant,” Lars rubs his brow. “Should only extend the deadline by...a week, your time?”

“We promised Tanzanite we’d get that equipment to her by--”

“Where are you rerouting _to_?” Peridot interrupts, swinging the screen downwards, her eyes narrowed with unwavering focus.

“Earth,” Lars says, unwilling or unable to look away. “Connie’s gone.”

A second later, Lapis appears again. “Okay, Lars, I’ll let Tanzanite know. And...we’ll fly out to meet you.”

* * *

Lars lands the Starskipper under the towering rocks of Steven’s childhood home. Pearl is already at the bottom of the steps, a teenage girl leaning against the railing above, looking vaguely interesting in the proceedings. After a full three seconds Lars recognises her as Sadie’s great-granddaughter and it hits him just _how_ _many years_ he’s been away by the chart of her growth.

“Hey, Sammy,” Lars lifts an arm to wave and the girl waves back.

“Hey, Uncle Lars,” she smiles and that, at least, is something. “Bring me presents?”

“Later,” he laughs, making his way to Pearl. She looks like she’s been awake for days and he can tell by the sheen across her eyes that she’s on the verge of tears. “Sorry about Connie, Pearl,” Lars wraps the gem in a hug. He’s known her for over sixty years, but he’s never been good at other people crying, especially not people far more put together than he is.

“Thank you, Lars,” she sniffs, hugging him tighter for a moment before pulling away.

“Where’s Steven?”

“The viewing is tomorrow. We’re giving him some space,” Pearl says, which doesn’t answer Lars’ question at all. He nods in understanding anyway. “Amethyst’s at the,” she swallows, “funeral home. Garnet is...well, she needs some time to herself before she can be there for any of us.”

“Got it,” Lars tugs at his earlobe. “Peridot and Lapis should be here soon. Let me know if I can do anything.”

“You know everyone wants to see you, Lars,” Pearl smiles indulgently. Lars can’t help but laugh, no humour behind it because, as this trip has proven, there aren’t many people left to see.

* * *

He doesn’t let Sammy onto his ship. Her grandmother--his own goddaughter--had once snuck on around the age she is now and he’s a once bitten, twice shy type. He does have gifts for the girl, and allows her the distraction from the gloomy atmosphere that seems to envelope Beach City.

"Funerals are lame,” Sammy pulls herself up to sit on one of the Starskipper’s engines.

“The lamest,” Lars agrees, despite knowing Sammy is only trying to get a rise out of him. Because funerals _are_ lame. They only happen when someone's died, after all.

“You’re dead, right?”

Lars tries to pull off a glower. It's a difficult task given they look roughly the same age. He always misses when they're young and a little awed by him. “Do I _look_ dead?”

“Gramma Lauriel says you died,” she shrugs. “What was your funeral like?”

“Short,” he scratches his chin. “Steven was there. He cried like a baby, which was a good thing because,” he motions down to himself.

“Now you're all Dorian Gray or whatever,” Sammy wiggles her eyebrows. “Hey do you think if Steven dies, _you'll_ die?”

“All right, that's enough,” he motions for her to get down, and she obeys with a huff. It’s too much morbidity for their current situation, however fondly he finds it reminiscent of Sadie. “Don't joke about shit like that.”

Another hour passes and, eventually, Sammy heads back home. Lars doesn’t bother heading into town after her. Beach City hasn’t changed much in sixty years. Lars hasn't been there to count every day but he knows that much at least. Peridot and Lapis still haven’t arrived. Most of him is tapping his foot, anxious and waiting, but a small part of him is preening over the new thrusters Fluorite and he had installed two cycles back that Rhodonite had assured them was a waste of resources.

He feels Lion before he sees him round the nose of the ship. Something about being close to the other jars something loose then pops it back into place. He imagines it’s like setting a broken bone, if afterwards you felt peaceful and calm, rather than in immense pain.

“Hey, pal,” Lars runs a hair through Lion’s familiar mane and the beast flips on his back for easier access. “Where’s Steven?”

Steven’s on the moon, no surprise.

Lapis and Peridot are also there, which _shouldn’t_ be a surprise either, but does mildly irritate him.

“Lars!” Steven meets Lars in the middle of the moonbase and picks him up in a hug. No one hugs like Steven, maybe because no one misses Lars the same way. Lars hugs back and pretends, even if it’s wrong to lie, that they’re happy, that there’s nothing wrong.

Beach City hasn’t changed much in sixty years, but Steven has.

Steven drops Lars off of Lion’s back and onto solid stone. He is at least a foot taller than Lars remembers him being, but still young; his thirties if Lars had to throw out a guess. His hair is long and curled and held back in a familiar tie that Lars doesn’t want to think about too long. The smile’s the same at least.

“We’ll go check in with Pearl and the others,” Peridot looks to be tugging at Lapis’ hand to no avail.

“Unless you need us here, Steven...?” Lapis raises her brows, wheedling.

Steven turns and pulls her into a hug. “I’m okay, thanks, Lapis.”

Steven waits until they’re gone and it’s like the fight leaves him, shoulders visibly slumping. He jostles them back up into some semblance of posture and motions Lars to his side. “How’d you find out? Pearl?”

“Lauriel,” Lars follows Steven to the edge of a crater, wrapped in a thin, pink bubble of safety.

Steven laughs. “She’s talking to you again, huh?”

“For now,” Lars rolls his eyes, lips lifting into a smile. Steven sits in the pockmark on the small, dead ground and looks up. Lars motions back to the base. “When’d you clean this place up?”

“Hm? Oh, ten or so years ago? Little while after Dad,” Steven coughs. Lars had been around for that. It coincided roughly after Clive and his wife had had Sammy and when Sadie had _awkwardly coughed._ About the time he decided he’d had enough of watching Beach City grow around him and die.

“You should visit more often,” Steven nudges his calf.

“No,” Lars sits beside him and pulls his knees in, snorting lightly. “I shouldn’t.”

Steven looks at him askance and Lars doesn’t really know what they're smiling about. Maybe it’s because they’re the only people in the world who know what it’s like to sit up here and understand the loss of _their_ home even though Earth is _right there_ . It doesn't seem like a reason to smile but understanding is a powerful thing.

“No, maybe not.”

“You could come out and see what me and the gang have been working on.”

“Maybe,” Steven leans back. “I’m not getting any younger. Or older.”

“Who is?”

“Lauriel,” Steven raises a brow. “Sixtieth birthday. I’m sure she’d love to see space again.”

Most days he doesn’t think about how old he is; how quickly or slowly time is passing. Coming home is a reminder because isn’t it odd that Sadie’s gone and now her grandkid has a kid? And, dammit if he doesn’t love Lauriel, and Clive, and even Sammy in that vague way you love the things precious to people who are precious to you. But how many generations before he doesn’t learn their names? How long before they have no idea who ‘Uncle Lars’ is?

“I don’t want to go to the wake,” Steven has his arm thrown over his face, all that hair sprawled out like a pillow beneath him. It’d look comfortable were it not for the small pebbles under them and the twisted expression on his face.

Lars pulls his arm away to see a great, blubbering mess. “Then don’t go,” Lars says, as though it’s as simple as that. “Steven you’re eighty-four years old, you can do whatever you want.”

Steven actually seems to consider that. “I don’t want her to feel alone.”

Lars thinks about the few minutes he died, and how he felt nothing at all. Wisely, he says nothing.

* * *

They have the wake at the Temple, and of course Steven is there, along with almost all of Beach City. There’s a closed casket, and Pearl frets about it going against tradition but it feels like a good idea once Steven starts crying. He's not used that _particular_ power since Lars, though his dad was a close day. Lars feels like today might be closer. Lars can't blame him. What must it be like to lose someone so close to yourself they're a part of you, he wonders. He’s never fully understood fusion, never liked the idea of someone close enough to let them know him that way. He trusts people, more people than he thought he ever could, but not like that. Maybe when he was younger...but there’s too much he knows about himself now that he’s not willing to share.

Lars takes in the scent of turmeric and fresh ocean air, wandering between Clive and Lauriel. The latter gives him such a harsh berating when they step outside, it almost makes up for the year she decided she wasn’t going to speak to him.

She’s trying to invite him over for supper, but mostly she’s trying to keep from crying, Lars can tell.

“All right, all right!” Lars concedes, smiling a little. “You guys go ahead.”

Lauriel nods with a sniff and Clive leads her away with a grateful expression and an eyeroll Lars envies. Lars signs _take care of your mother,_ thumb tapping lightly against his chin and Clive throws him a thumbs up. Sadie’s grandson was born hearing impaired, and for the first twenty years of his life, held the same interest in following Lars as the rest of his family. At twenty one, Sammy was born and his letters were only ever about her. It suited him, Lars thought.

“Hey, Donut-Boy,” Amethyst ribs him good-naturedly when he slinks back through the door to say his goodbyes. His legacy in Beach City, he thinks, a little resigned: a donut. Then again, there’s a pretty sweet portrait of him and the Crystal Gems fighting off an oncoming invasion hanging in Town Hall so he’s not gonna complain. “Not heading out, are you?”

He can tell by the full weight of her stare she suspects he is. Eyes flicking from Steven to the door, and silently asking him, begging him not to.

“Having dinner with Sadie’s family,” he explains, almost placating and Amethyst visibly relaxes. “I’ll just...I’m gonna let Steven know.”

Steven’s sitting by the door to the kitchen, framed by a sleeping Lion and an ever-watchful Pearl. He draws away from both of them when Lars approaches the casket, hands stuffed deep into his pockets.

“I won’t leave for another few weeks, at least,” Lars tells him, to avoid saying anything about Connie. He’s done a good job not thinking about her, and he doesn’t want to talk about her. “Lapis and Peridot’ll probably stay longer.”

“You guys don’t have to.” Steven’s mouth twists into a smile.

“I know. And I meant what I said before.” Lars pulls a hand out to lay it between Steven’s shoulders. “You can come see me anytime.”

“By myself? In that room?” Steven rubs his hands together, the words not quite making sense to Lars until he continues, quietly, “What if forget what we felt like?”

Lars feels his eyes prick. If he hadn’t been thinking about Connie, he had firmly dedicated a special part of his brain to _not_ thinking about Stevonnie. No wonder Garnet had taken off.

“I’m never hungry and I keep telling myself I'll forget what food tastes like but every time I come home and smell the big donut, nope.” Lars says with a hint of self-deprecation. “There it is, I want a damn double chocolate glazed.”

“That why you don't like coming here?”

“No,” Lars runs a hand across the wood grain in front of him. “You know why.”

Steven nods with a great, embarrassing sniff. “I’ll think about it. Coming out to visit sometime. Promise.”

* * *

When he leaves, Lars stuffs this new letter in with the rest of them, flipping through the older ones, stained by age.

His father... _Laramie, your mother isn’t doing too well, we’d love to see you._

Sadie... _I know you can't stay home but I wish you felt like you could still talk to me._

Countless more from Lauriel… _You told me once that Beach City never changes. Is that why you never come home anymore? But you and the Gems never change either. I know if I ask one of the adults why they stay while you keep leaving, someone could answer, but I’d rather hear it from you, whenever you want to tell me. I miss you, and so does Mom._

And finally...

 _Lars,  
_ _Connie's gone. Steven’s very upset. Come home._  
_Lauriel_

The planet he’s called home for the past thirty years is a gaseous giant of floating islands. Orange by day and a beautiful violet at night, with pink jellyfish (no relation) that sound like birds and float between starships and land. _His_ island is eerily reminiscent of Beach City, with beautiful white sand, grey in some places, and clear water, but everything surrounding it is just different enough.

He gets out of the shuttle alone and goes to the house he wouldn’t let the others help him build until Stevonnie bulldozed his stubbornness with their own. He finds their room with plans to clean.

To say Stevonnie’s carved out a space in Lars’ home would be inadequate. Stevonnie’s room has a pile of laundry that still needs doing, a full library of books built into the wall beside the bed, a stack of half-finished crosswords under the lamp on the desk. It’s a vacation home, maybe, but a well-loved one.

He knows he should do the laundry, at least. He should have done that last month.

He crawls under the covers and cries himself to sleep instead.

* * *

Steven shows up when Lars has gotten tired of thinking about the room at all, has decided to clean the rest of the house and his ship instead. He’s in the middle of prying off a nasty Arcturian leech with a metal spatula when the other man is there, a small backpack over one shoulder and a smaller, tired smile on his face.

“I brought movies,” he lifts his shoulder, looking hopeful. “And donuts.”

Lars drops the spatula and nearly slams his head into the wing of the Starskipper in his haste to hug him because honestly, when he lets himself think about it, he’s been worried he’ll forget what Stevonnie feels like too. Dancing with them and making jokes and following them into danger he never would have on his own.  
  
Over the course of sixty six years Lars knows he’s changed too, though he’s far worse at tracking when and how. He’s someone who has a family that still wants him to come home (for reasons beyond his understanding at times), and a person who his crew, the Crystal Gems, and most importantly in this moment, Steven, feels like he can depend on.

“Double chocolate glazed. Good call.” He can smell them this close. He pulls away, wiping at his eyes. “Hey, before we take a crack at those, can you help me make an invitation for Lauriel? I could just bring her out here but...,"

He shrugs. He's thinking of the invitations Steven and Connie used to have so much fun making. Formal by design, informal in all the right ways. The long lines on Steven’s face ease and, for a moment, he looks a little younger, a little less tired. “Happy to, Captain.”


End file.
